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about square footage just before I walked in here. I just didn’t realize when I started figuring how many tiles we’d need, and what it would cost, that I was counting out loud.” She made her smile broader. “I guess I was more into my planning than I thought I was.”
    Her mother still looked doubtful, but Holly knew she would believe her. Her mother would want to believe her too badly to give in to suspicions. But if this nonsense kept up ...
    Her mother looked past her, distracted by something. And Holly turned to follow her gaze.
    Vince O’Mally was bearing down on them, carrying a coffee carafe he must have charmed away from Tracy, the teenage waitress. Not saying a word, he reached for the coffee mug in front of Holly, flipped it upright, and filled it. “Coffee’s on me, Red,” he told her.
    “That isn’t necessary,” Holly said.
    “Sure it is. You told me yourself you never got a cup this morning.” He glanced across the table. “You haven’t introduced me to your friend.” As he spoke he lifted the pot and arched a questioning brow. Doris nodded and Vince filled her cup as well.
    Doris smiled at him. “I’m Doris. Holly’s mother.”
    Holly didn’t like the man. Something about him set her teeth on edge. Still, she said, “Mom, this is Detective O’Mally—”
    “Vince,” he said.
    “Right. Vince. He’s with the Syracuse Police Department. Their special library crimes unit or something.” He shot her an amused look as he took her mother’s hand in greeting.
    “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Newman.”
    “Call me Doris,” she said. Then she turned to Holly. “And how is it you two know each other?”
    “I had some business with the chief this morning,” Vince said before Holly could answer. “There was a mishap with the coffee, the pot got smashed to bits, and I think it was partly my fault. I doubt Holly ever got her morning caffeine.”
    “Really?” Doris looked from Vince to Holly and back again. “And, um ... are you here at the café all alone?” When O’Mally nodded, Holly knew what was coming but couldn’t speak quickly enough to prevent it. “Well, why don’t you pull up a chair and join us?”
    Vince glanced at Holly, but where she expected to see a smirk of triumph in his eyes, she saw only a question. Reluctantly, she nodded. Only then did he say, “Thanks, I think I will.” He pulled up a chair from a nearby vacant table, and sat down at theirs.
    “What brings you to Dilmun, Detective?”
    “Oh, just vacation time. I have a couple of weeks to fill. Thought someplace quiet would do me good.”
    “I’d say you came to the right place. We used to live in Syracuse, you know. Liked it so much down here we never wanted to go back.”
    “Really?” Vince glanced at Holly. “You didn’t mention that.”
    She only shrugged. But she sent her mother a pleading look. They didn’t talk about that time, that place. They just didn’t. Her mother was breaking a sacred, if unspoken, vow by even mentioning it.
    “How long have you been living here?” Vince asked.
    “Gosh, must be going on five years now.”
    “And where in Syracuse did you live?”
    Holly set her cup down on the table. Hard. Her mother, who had been about to answer him, closed her mouth and they both looked at Holly, brows raised. “Will you two excuse me for a minute?” She got to her feet. “I just ... uh ... I’ll be back.” Holly hurried into the restroom, closed the door behind her, stood there, and realized she’d counted again. She’d counted the steps to the restroom, and she had no idea if it had been aloud or not.
    She braced her hands on the sink, and stared into the mirror. “Okay, so what’s going on with you, huh?” she asked her reflection.
    “You okay, Holly?” a small voice asked.
    Holly turned to see Bethany Stevens standing there looking up at her with eyes big enough to swim in.
    Holly swallowed hard, and plastered a smile on her face. “Hey, you. What are you doing out of